


Hit and Miss

by missbeizy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 21:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt.  <a href="http://lsklainegleek.tumblr.com/">lsklainegleek</a> requested, "Okey dokey! So everyone knew about the kiss except Chris. D lays it on him, C flails on stage but when he leaves the stage, he rages and heads for his dressing room. D follows him wanting to know why C is so upset. It was a bet, after all? No big deal, right? Didn't I win, Chris? C is upset because he believes that D only thought of it as a bet and there was no feeling behind it and how can D not know that C has feelings for him but forget about it, doesn't matter. D admits feelings, shocked that C feels the same way. C is everything, amazing and how could he like D "that way"? But C does. Feelings are admitted, Shy kissing starts but gets heated. They meet in C's hotel room after the show. Sex ensues. The cast notice the next day (touchy feely, they're obv to everyone). Money is exchanged as bets were made to see how long before those two would finally get together. High fives all around. C&D are shy but laugh it off.  I've always seen Chris as the top? But in this initial time for them, not sure? What would you think? Since D thinks C is too good for him, maybe yes, C would top. Yum. Do your worst! And thanks!!!!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit and Miss

**Author's Note:**

> Post [Dublin kiss](http://zcatz.tumblr.com/post/9687831263/klaine-skit-dublin-final-night-rather-awesome).

He almost kills himself on a roll of cable chasing Chris backstage. He's buzzing--literally high--from the performance, from the crowd, and it's the way that performing always feels for Darren only multiplied by about a million. The lights always make him blind, the applause makes him want to throw his arms up and spin in circles and hug every single motherfucker sitting in the audience. And to top it all off, he managed to catch Chris off-guard, he managed to plan the kiss and warn everyone but Chris and Chris had been totally fucking surprised and Darren fucking wins, yes? It is awesome, they are awesome, life is fucking motherfucking awesome.

He bursts into their dressing room--Chris isn't alone, but the venue employee that's helping him scuttles out of the room as Darren enters, and Darren grabs a towel from the stack on the dressing table and begins wiping the sweat off of his face and neck. He chugs half a bottle of water before turning to Chris.

He waggles his eyebrows. "Come on," he says. "Come on, let's hear it. I win tonight. I win tonight and possibly the rest of the tour for that shit. You had no idea, man, like, absolutely no idea. Good recovery, though."

Chris' face is flushed and it's not a good flush. It's a mottled flush that says, I am upset and angry. It's a cooked lobster flush. It's an I am not happy right now okay Darren flush.

Darren deflates. "Uh, what's up?"

"We didn't have to go there," Chris exhales sharply. He's clearly very agitated. "It--it's one thing to tease, but we didn't have to--" His chest is heaving.

Darren is absolute shit at this. Half the time he has no clue when and how he offends people, and then no clue how to appease them once he has, and he feels like such an asshole most of the time, people have no idea. He doesn't know what to do now, but he thinks that privacy might be important, so he locks the dressing room door.

"I'm sorry, man," he begins. Go with easy apologies. Can't fuck those up. "I had no idea you were so uncomfortable with the idea or I wouldn't have." He tries to smile. "I kind of clued everyone in, no one mentioned that you might be--like, angry."

"You don't--you don't get it. Obviously."

"No, I don't. So why don't you tell me what's going on because I feel like I missed a conversation somewhere along the line."

Chris has wiped down and changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. He's--god, there are tears in his eyes, and this suddenly got a whole lot worse. Darren feels something twinge in his chest and moves toward Chris slowly. He's--okay, see "crap at this" again, but he reaches out and taps the back of Chris' hand.

"Hey," he says, softer. "Talk to me."

"I--I never thought that the first time you kissed me--you, not Blaine--would be in front of thousands of people," Chris whispers, staring at the floor.

Darren's pulse snaps into a higher cadence. He feels his face flood with heat. He twitches, fingers closing around Chris' hand. Never, in a million years would he have even thought Chris might--he's had thoughts, of course, since the beginning. He's never met anyone as talented and beautiful and unique as Chris, and he's always tried to set those feelings aside because there is just no way that Chris could like him that way.

But now--

"You--you wanted us to--?" He keeps trying to catch Chris' eye and failing.

"I don't know why," Chris says, voice thick with unshed tears. "You're kind of an asshole."

Darren laughs. "Yeah, I know." His heart is climbing his throat, though, alongside an excitement that he has kept stifled for months. "Can I--can I come to your room tonight? We should talk." The silence is heavy with the tension that suddenly springs between them.

Chris looks at him, finally, and goddamn those dimples--it's almost cheating. "That's--okay. But." He teeters forward on his toes, eyes wide and beautiful and damp, and it's all Darren can do to stay still when Chris' lips brush his. It's is absolutely nothing like kissing in front of cameras and people--it's the difference between going to the bathroom with a viewing audience and going to the bathroom in the privacy of your own home.

He makes a small noise and leans forward, sliding his fingers around Chris' hips and kissing back. He knows he can go from zero to sixty with kissing, and several ex-girlfriends had mentioned that he might want to tone down the tongue, so he just lets himself be kissed, and--it's a good idea, because Chris seems to like to take control of it. 

His head goes kind of fuzzy and when Chris pulls away he makes a small, desperate noise. "Um." He breathes, eyelids dipping. "Was that more like it?"

Chris grins. "Yep."

"I think we can do better," Darren says. He slides one hand up the middle of Chris' back and kisses him, a little harder this time. It's awkward at first--they've acted this out before, of course, they've even practiced kissing off camera, but there is no way to compare the two. He closes his eyes and lets his tongue slide along the seam of Chris' lips and Chris lets him inside and gently licks him back. Chris' hand disappears into his sweaty hair and their chests touch and then their pelvises. Chris makes a soft, broken noise and Darren presses him into the makeup table. A basket full of snacks and Diet Coke cans topples over.

"Oh," Chris sighs, when they part for breath.

Someone knocks on the door.

"Shit," Darren breathes. "Later?"

"Later," Chris replies, beautifully flushed. They both subtly adjust themselves as Darren goes to answer the door.

 

*

 

It's much, much later, actually, and Darren is surprised that they are able to be alone at all. But when push comes to shove he's able to manipulate it, and he even manages to take a five minute shower and get to Chris' room before midnight.

Chris is in bed with his laptop when he comes in, surrounded by notebooks covered in writing.

"Writer's block?" he asks, smiling, leaning against the closed door.

"Uh." Chris takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "I was trying to--I actually felt inspired. And then I opened this and tried to write and it just kind of--" He motions, fingers splaying out like a fireworks burst. "There and then gone." He closes the laptop and puts it on the nightstand, then puts his glasses back on.

Darren sits in front of him, folding up Indian-style. "Did you eat?"

"Yeah, they had something waiting--it was either tuna or egg salad, not sure which. I ate it too fast to care."

He reaches out and gently puts his hands on Chris' thighs. It's not sexual or forward; he just wants to feel connected somehow. "I feel so bad about earlier, man." He closes his eyes. God, what is he afraid of? He's the guy who at thirteen had serenaded a girl on the off chance that he might get her to love him forever. "I've always had a thing for you. I just--you are so out of my league, and I've never flirted with a guy before, I just--it was easier to kind of ignore it?"

"I'm out of your league?" Chris' cheeks are flushed. He breathes out, then reaches up and takes Darren's jaw with one hand. "I just like you. A lot. That's all. I wanted it to be just a--a friend--thing, I tried but--it's not."

Darren tries to hear over the frantic pounding of his heart, but he's getting tunnel vision again, and he can't help it--when he gets obsessive about something that's it, it's all he's going to be able to do well, and right now all he wants to do is be with Chris. He has no idea how long it's going to be before they have time alone, truly alone, again, and--it just seems right, like this is the moment.

He kisses Chris and savors the whisper of excited breath that puffs across his mouth. "I--how far do you want this to go tonight, man, I--have no fucking clue, but I just--you know me I just want to do everything. I was that kid that ripped open my presents at Christmas one after the other with like zero patience."

Chris is staring at him like he is one of those presents that he'd just spoken of. He kisses Darren, slow and soft, and gently pushes him down onto the bed.

Darren has no fucking clue what he wants, but the moment that Chris climbs on top of him he's pretty sure about one thing; he likes it. He likes Chris over him, weight pinning him to the bed. He likes that Chris seems to know what to do. He wants--

They kiss for a long time. Darren's legs slowly spread, inch by inch, and by the time they are both completely erect Chris is between his thighs and their cocks are grinding through their clothing.

"Put your legs around me," Chris whispers.

Darren groans. "Oh god, I have no fucking idea what I'm doing."

Chris kisses his jaw, his neck, then pushes his t-shirt up and over his head to get at his nipples. "I do," he replies, licking at the small nubs. Darren gasps, feeling the touch everywhere. He's already overheating and Chris hasn't even touched his cock.

"Oh well that's--good--"

"Do you--I could just blow you."

"Uh." Chris' fingers are tracing his hip bones and he can't think straight.

"I could jerk you off," Chris says, softer, kissing down Darren's belly. His tongue licks a path through the hair that leads down into the waistband of Darren's sweatpants. Darren's cock is straining against the fabric. He can't make words, so he just kind of arches up, panting.

Deliberately, Chris squeezes him through his pants. "I could fuck you."

"Oh my god," Darren whimpers. The part of Darren that is permanently set to "on", the part of him that immediately reacts with "fuck yeah let's do it" to pretty much every new experience that comes his way, is at the forefront of his mind and screaming positive things from the theoretical mountaintop. There is literally nothing about the idea that bothers him, other than--

"I have um, I have condoms and stuff," Chris answers, almost reading his mind.

"God, yes, let's--yes."

Chris sets the condoms and lubricant on the bed, then climbs back into Darren's arms and they just sort of--let go for a while, kisses and touches and Chris' shirt coming off--and god, his skin is so fucking soft it can't even be real--and Darren slides one hand down the back of his sweatpants to grab at his ass and guide their erections together. Chris gasps and bites down on his lip and Darren moans.

"Let me get you off first," Chris pants, clawing at the waistband of Darren's pants. "It's--better that way."

Oh. Oh shit, this is really happening.

"You could just, um, your hand--"

"I really want to taste you," Chris replies, and Darren's brain fractures just a little.

"O-okay."

And it's a little--okay, completely--pathetic, because the last thing he thought he'd need to be prepared for today was the sight of Chris Colfer's sweet baby pink mouth wrapped around his cock, and he comes in maybe two minutes, frantically clawing at Chris' hair and wishing he had more stamina.

Chris swallows without hesitation, that soft always-there tongue gathering come at the corner of his mouth and taking it back in. Darren groans. "Oh my god, you are--do you have any idea how you fucking are, Chris--"

Chris doesn't reply; he just kisses his way down Darren's softening balls, then pushes them aside and licks at the skin below them.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

He thumbs Darren's hole. "Uh, I'm going to assume that you've never...?"

"You'd be correct," Darren breathes. It doesn't matter to him; he's staring down his own naked body. Chris is between his legs and his cock is soft and satisfied and he can feel himself already opening up to Chris' finger and he doesn't care if it hurts or if it sucks, he just wants to know what it feels like, he just wants them to be closer. He'll judge the experience later. There will always be time for that. "Don't stop. I--want to know what it feels like."

Chris coats his fingers in lubricant. "Lift up a little?" He slides a small hotel pillow under Darren's hips and puts his fingers back where they had been. The lubricant is cool, and then warm as soon as Chris starts working the pads of his slick fingers in slow, firm circles against Darren's body.

Darren lies back and breathes deeply, letting the oddness, the intimacy of the touch bleed through him like ink through paper. He's glad for the darkness in the room for once because--yeah, it's weird. He's never even touched himself there.

It tingles. He's so sensitive down there. And as Chris presses harder and longer without stopping, he starts to rock his hips back into it, and then all of the sudden it's not enough.

"Um," he breathes. "More?"

Chris groans. "Okay." He shifts the angle of his wrist and then it's just one finger, his pointer finger, and it--pushes in, just to the first knuckle, and--Darren exhales. It feels weird. Full and weird, and it senses a flush through his body.

"Don't stop," he breathes.

Chris pushes his finger inside and twists it slowly back out.

"Oh my god," Darren gasps. He splays one hand across his belly. He spreads his legs and feels his entire pelvis roll down into the intrusion. Fuck, it feels good, which he hadn't even counted on. The slight burn of pain from being penetrated is gone now, and he--wants it again. "I'm okay, you can--"

"Jesus," Chris pants, pushing in another finger. He crooks them, and Darren feels something sudden and sharp and explosive happen behind his balls.

"Fuck," he groans. "Oh my god I can't--move, or fuck me, or--fuck, Chris, please, now."

He doesn't even notice Chris fumble with the condom. He just sighs with relief when Chris surges up between his legs and encourages them around him. "Kiss me," Chris groans, and falls onto him, and their tongues are wet in each other's mouths.

"Do it," Darren groans.

Chris lines up and presses into him, hard and fast, and sinks in with one smooth motion. 

It hurts. It hurts and it's weird, like really fucking weird, and Darren kind of goes still and clings to Chris' torso.

"Tell me when I can," Chris gasps.

"Okay, give me a minute." He reaches down and rubs himself as a distraction, though he's only maybe a quarter of the way hard. Chris squeezes more lubricant between them, and then slowly, slowly pulls out and pushes back in. "Oh--oh that's--really fucking--weird--"

Chris kisses him. They're suddenly eye to eye, those beautiful fucking eyes staring right back into his. His chest hitches and Chris begins gently fucking into him and it's--warm and full and god, he has never felt so connected to another person before, maybe ever. Something about taking it is so intimate, so invasive, he never thought that would even be a part of it, he had no idea--

"Oh, like that," he moans, sliding his hands down to grasp Chris' hips. "Oh god yes."

Chris is grinning like a lunatic, kissing him again and again, his lips and his jaw and his ears and his neck.

"God, you are so--you feel so good," he groans, snapping his hips forward. "You don't--it's good now?"

"Yes, fuck, yes, you can move faster."

It's oddly quiet--the wet noise of Chris' cock moving in and out of him and their low, frantic breathing and the occasional endearment or quiet hissing curse when Chris hits it just right. But there's no television on and no background music, just the whisper of desperation as Darren's body gives over to Chris' thick cock.

It doesn't go on forever--soon Chris is stopping and starting and shaking and Darren knows that he's making this last longer than he probably does when he masturbates and he's having sympathetic pangs for that. He kisses across Chris' ear. They are so completely wound up together; his legs around Chris' waist and arms around Chris' torso , Chris' hands tangled up around his shoulders and in his hair, and it's so warm and sweet and he's still kind of grinding his half-mast erection into Chris' belly. He won't be able to come again so soon, but it feels so good.

"Hey," he breathes, biting at Chris' earlobe. He draws one hand up and over Chris's shaking, sweaty shoulder. "You can--you can come--"

"Oh my god," Chris gasps, shaking, hips swiveling in tight circles that make Darren feel his every inch--and then he thrusts hard and forward, once twice three times and shaking, he comes, pushing Darren down into the bed.

They don't talk at first. Chris carefully pulls out and discards the condom. It's still a mess of sticky lubricant everywhere, so they roll onto the dry side of the bed and lie side by side, hands tangled.

Darren feels hollowed out and sore and completely, terrifyingly amazing.

"I'm kind of in love with you, I think," he says, sleepy and stupid.

"Same," Chris says, grinning at him just as dopey.

At breakfast the next morning they sit cuddled up at the end of a booth and feed each other fruit and granola (okay, Darren has waffles, too). He knows that they should probably reign it in, but--let's face it, he's never been very good at that.

And he's not even very surprised when Kevin hands Amber a twenty, and then everyone at the table starts swapping money. He and Chris sit up and stare at their friends.

Chris' eyes narrow.

Darren throws a blueberry at Dianna's head. 

She smiles. "Hey, I bet on you. I had faith."

"Betrayed," Darren moans, staring at the table as everyone laughs and throws things at he and Chris.

"The hurt is deep," Chris adds. "More waffles. There will be more waffles and I am not paying for them."

Smirking, Lea raises a hand. "Waiter?"


End file.
